Deck the Halls
by Immi
Summary: Catherine and Sara celebrate the holidays in a series of fibbles, aka drabblets. CathSara.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: Hi peoples! Instead of working on one of my ongoing fics, I decided to start something new! ...Yay? This entire story is all **scuby's** fault, by the way.

* * *

Sara sighed unhappily at seeing the piece of cloth stuck to the underside of the car. What could be one of the few traces left by the perp, and oil was dripping all over it. And from the looks of the fabric, it was caught pretty securely. By the time she got it out…

"Sara?"

Sara lifted her head up immediately at the sound of Catherine's voice, forgetting for a moment that she was lying underneath a car. She banged her head rather spectacularly into the exhaust pipe. Letting out a curse and a pained groan she slid out from under the car and looked up at the woman who haunted her dreams.

Trying and failing to look nonchalant, Sara cleared her throat. "Yes Catherine?"

Catherine smiled sympathetically and kneeled down on the floor so she was eye-level with Sara. She reached out and wiped away some of the grease that was covering the fast-forming bruise on the younger woman's forehead.

Sara, for her part, tried desperately hard not to lean in to Catherine's touch too obviously. During the aftermath of their last major blowout, Sara had let some of her skeletons out of the closet for Catherine to see, and since then, they had developed a steady friendship. Increased physical contact was part of that new relationship.

For Sara, it was a mixed blessing. As much as she loved being able to say more than five words to Catherine without shouting, it was much harder to avoid her feelings for the blonde when they weren't at each other's throats.

"Are you okay?"

**Much** harder. Sara could count the times she had heard that wonderfully gentle tone of voice before last February on one hand. It was one of the many little things that were slowly allowing Catherine to worm her way into Sara's heart.

Tearing herself away from her thoughts, Sara mustered up a smile. "I'm fine. It didn't really hurt that badly." _Liar._ "Did you need something?"

Catherine nodded, still keeping a concerned eye on Sara's forehead. "Yes, actually. Are you doing anything tomorrow—ah, today?"

"No," Sara blurted out far too quickly. She prayed that she wasn't blushing as badly as the heat in her cheeks indicated. Catherine really didn't need to know how eager Sara was to spend more time with her.

"Would you mind doing me a huge favor then? I promised Lindsey that we'd have our new Christmas lights up and on the first night of December, but I don't know the first thing about them. Do you think you could come by and help me?"

Sara smiled and nodded, barely thinking about it. As if she'd say no to a chance to help her Cath out. "Sure."

Catherine sighed in relief and tugged Sara into a brief hug. "Thank you, Sara. I was worried I'd have to be up on the roof all day playing the clueless parent." With that Catherine exited the garage, leaving Sara to slide back under the car.

She had just managed to get a good grip on the oil-drenched cloth when her thoughts caught up with what Catherine had said about being up on the roof. The cloth promptly fell from her grasp as she stared blankly into the air.

…_Wait. __**What**__ did I just agree to do?_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

* * *

"Damn it, Sara, be careful!" 

The younger woman grinned down at Catherine from the roof. "Aw, c'mon, Cath! If I just walked around up here, I'd probably slip anyways. At least this way it's on purpose."

Catherine scowled at Sara, clearly expressing her displeasure at Sara's careless manner of getting across the roof. The memory of Sara banging her head on the car was still fresh in her mind. She wasn't about to be responsible for another head injury.

"What's on the roof making all of that noise?"

Catherine tore her attention away from the attractive brunette near the chimney and looked over at her obviously annoyed daughter. She smiled sadly. Just a few years ago, Lindsey might have asked if Santa Claus had come early this year. Her little girl was growing up.

"Sara's hanging up the Christmas lights, since you insisted on having them up by tonight."

Lindsey crossed her arms and glared at her mother. "I didn't insist on anything. _You_ promised. And doesn't Warrick usually hang the lights?"

Catherine shrugged, overly conscious of the light blush staining her cheeks that her inconveniently observant daughter was bound to notice. "I decided to give him a break this year." _And having Sara sweating on my roof is so much more appealing,_ she added silently.

Lindsey rolled her eyes and shook her head, muttering something uncomplimentary about adults. Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing. Could you tell Sara to stop being so noisy? I can't hear anything coming out of my stereo with her stomping around up there." With that the teenager walked back into the house, leaving Catherine to shake her head. She wasn't sure if Lindsey was actually annoyed at the noise or if her daughter had just found an opportunity to hint that she still wanted a new stereo.

Not for the first time, Catherine wished that Lindsey hadn't outgrown writing Christmas lists to be mailed to the North Pole. It was becoming an almost impossible task to figure out what she wanted. The temptation to say, "To hell with it!" and write Lindsey a check grew every year.

Shaking her head once more she turned back to Sara, who was looking impossibly childish trying to untangle the Christmas lights. She smirked. "Those are brand new, Sidle. Don't tell me you've already managed to tie them into knots."

Sara crossed her arms, doing an amazing impression of Lindsey, complete with the adorable pout on her lips.

Catherine laughed and walked over to the ladder, intent on joining Sara up on the roof. Sara would never manage to get those lights untangled all by herself, and as cute as she looked trying to, Catherine had the feeling that her friend probably didn't want to spend her entire day off up on a coworker's roof.

She had just started to walk across a tile when she slipped on a stray leaf. She barely kept herself from falling off the roof, grabbing on to the nearest thing she could. In this case, that happened to be Sara. Sara, noticing Catherine's dilemma, reached out and grabbed her hand, dropping the lights in the process. Catherine fell into Sara's arms, cheeks blazing.

They sat there silently for a few moments, hearing nothing but the faint sound of Lindsey's music and each other's heart beats. Then Catherine became aware of Sara's soft laughter echoing in her ears.

"I told you sliding across the tiles works better."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: Thanks to **scuby** for being a magnificent sounding board.

* * *

It was ridiculous, Sara told herself. It wasn't like Grissom would even notice. He probably wouldn't even realize what the tight restraint in Cath's voice meant. And even if she started yelling, there was still a chance that he wouldn't notice. 

So it really was ridiculous to feel anything even approaching jealousy rushing through her veins. Grissom wouldn't notice, which made it extremely doubtful that he would appreciate the unparalleled beauty of Catherine Willows in all her fury.

And yet she was still uncomfortable with the idea of anyone else getting to see Cath like that, no matter how little they appreciated the fire in her eyes or her slightly flushed cheeks or her—

It was also entirely possible that she was a _little_ jealous.

Sara sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was getting out of hand. Ever since she had helped Catherine with her new Christmas lights, she hadn't been able to help feeling a little possessive of the older woman. That day… Sara knew what a family was, even if she had never really had one. Her and Catherine laughing on the roof… Lindsey opening her window to tell them to be quiet… that was what it was supposed to be like.

She wondered if it would be like that when the three of them went out to get a Christmas tree. When Catherine asked if Sara wanted to join her and Lindsey for their annual tree hunt, Sara had been ready to say no. But then Lindsey had cast her vote of approval.

_"Yeah, you should come along, Sara. Mom always gets these wimpy little things so she doesn't break her back. We could get an actual tree this year if you helped."_

Sara's small smile at the memory vanished when she heard Catherine yelling at Grissom.

"Did it ever **once** occur to you that some people might actually want a vacation during the holidays?"

"It's just a conference, Catherine. You won't be away from Lindsey for more than a few days—"

"—That's not the point!"

Sara closed her eyes, almost feeling bad for Grissom. The miniscule amount of jealousy warming her blood took away any real sympathy she had for him, though. She was also a little annoyed that he didn't see anything wrong with pulling Catherine away from home when she still had so much preparing to do for the holidays.

Maybe…

Grissom's office door slammed open and Catherine came storming out. Sara straightened up and focused on not losing herself in the tumultuous depths of Cath's eyes as she called out to the older woman.

"Hey Catherine, I could talk to Grissom about going to that conference instead, if you'd like. I don't have anything planned besides getting a tree with you and Linds."

Instead of the relieved smiled Sara had been expecting and half-hoping for, Catherine's eyes flashed dangerously, and she marched back into Grissom's office.

"You didn't even** tell** her she was going to New York with me?!"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

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Watching Sara's face go from relaxed, to confused, to unhappy realization all in five seconds was certainly entertaining, Catherine mused. Not to mention downright adorable. She looked like a little kid who had just been told that she couldn't go out and play because she had chores to do.

"I thought you said that you wanted to go ice skating—"

"—I do," Catherine interrupted. "I want to go ice skating with you."

Sara looked down forlornly at the skates Catherine had dumped in her lap. Catherine resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. Honestly, what had Sara been expecting? To sit on a bench for an hour? Catherine wasn't about to let the woman she had come to care for so much freeze to death.

"You know, we could just stay in the warm hotel room all day and order room service."

Catherine grinned. "Don't tell me you mind a little cold? You didn't seem to have any problems with it a few minutes ago, when you were sitting so peacefully on that frozen bench." Sara shifted uncomfortably, still eying the skates as if they were a pair of Grissom's pet spiders.

Throughout the years, Catherine had learned a lot about Sara Sidle. Working together, fighting, and becoming friends had given her a good sense of which buttons to push to get the younger woman to react. Now, she was extremely grateful for that knowledge.

"Oh, I get it. You're afraid that you're going to end up flat on your back within the first five minutes out there."

Sara finally looked away from the skates to glare up at Catherine. "I am not!"

Catherine crossed her arms and smiled cheerfully at her friend. "Prove it." She watched the battle of emotions warring behind Sara's eyes. Sara obviously knew she was being manipulated, but she wasn't ignoring Cath well enough to be left unaffected. Catherine pressed her advantage.

"How about we make a bet out of it? If you fall within the first five minutes, you join Lindsey and I for Christmas. That includes Christmas Eve."

"And what happens if I stay up?"

Catherine leaned forward and flicked a flake of snow from Sara's hair, whispering into her ear.

"Whatever you want."

Several minutes later, Sara started the timer on her watch and stepped onto the ice, Catherine following closely behind. At the last minute, Catherine grabbed her hand and carefully inspected Sara's watch.

"I'm not stupid enough to try and get something that simple past you, Cat."

Catherine shrugged and started to carefully slid across the ice. She knew that. She also knew how warm she felt when she got away with conveniently forgetting to let go of Sara's hand.

Everything went blissfully well for four and a half minutes. Ironically enough, it was when Sara turned to tell Catherine that she was pretty sure she was still standing when all hell broke loose.

Sara had been lucky enough to avoid a particularly slippery patch of ice the first few times around the ice rink. This time, she wasn't. Her right foot slipped out from under her, and she ended up with her back slammed against the ice, bringing Catherine along for the ride.

Catherine probably would have fallen face first into the ice, but Sara reached out at the last second and pulled the blonde on top of her.

They lay there, staring into each other's eyes for at least ten seconds. Some of the ice Sara had picked up from their fall was melting on her cheek and sliding down to her lips...

Catherine had just begun to lean forward when a metallic beep sounded out from where their linked hands were resting. She exhaled slowly and tried not to imagine how satisfying tearing the watch apart with her bare hands would be.

"I guess you're spending Christmas with us."

Sara nodded slowly, and Catherine's heart couldn't help but skip a beat when she realized that Sara's eyes were bright and content even as she covered them with a defeated sigh.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI

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Lindsey walked around the Christmas tree lot, glaring at the lack of selection. If 'Uncle' Grissom hadn't decided to send her mother to New York, they could have done this earlier and had more of a choice. 

She wasn't about to say that out loud, though. Her mom had already gone through being pissed about that. Bringing it up again because of a problem that she hadn't noticed at the time was probably a very bad idea. Lindsey knew that her mother's boss was a little weird, but she definitely didn't want him to die the bloody death her mom had only just stopped planning.

Not that she really understood why her mom had been so upset. Lindsey looked over to where her mother and Sara were standing and rolled her eyes._ Grownups._ The distance between them was entirely appropriate, making it painfully obvious that they were both unhappy about the appropriateness.

It was still something Lindsey was getting used to. Ever since Sara had started coming over to their house…

Her mother was… happy. Really, genuinely happy. It seemed like it had been forever since her mom's eyes had shined like that. Realizing just how long her mother had gone without that spark bothered her. And she hadn't even noticed until Sara came along.

Sara was cool, for an adult. Besides Greg, Sara was the only one of her mom's coworkers who didn't treat her like she was still five. It might've just been because her mom hadn't let Sara anywhere near her unless it was absolutely necessary until she was a teenager, but it was still appreciated.

"Lindsey wants an actual tree, remember Cat? There's no way she'll let you get away with that."

Lindsey glanced at the 'tree' and thanked God that Sara had been talked in to joining this trip. Her mother clearly had no idea what a proper Christmas tree was. She grinned reluctantly as Sara talked her mom out of the weed someone had stuck price tag on. The mushy way they were looking at each other was getting on her nerves, but if it meant getting a real Christmas tree this year, she'd put off complaining about it for a while.

"Can we get this one, mom?"

The tree in front of Lindsey was ridiculously tall, and if Sara hadn't been with them, she never would have dared to ask for it. As it was, Sara and her mom walked over and her mother didn't immediately walk right back to the weed.

Sara inspected the tree thoroughly, looking for any gaps in the branches and testing the strength of them. Lindsey waited somewhat patiently for a few minutes, carefully not looking at the way her mom was watching Sara.

Finally, Sara stepped back and grinned at Lindsey. "I like it."

"There's no way that's going to fit in our living room."

Lindsey rolled her eyes and watched as Sara convinced her mom that the tree would fit fine.

She didn't have a Christmas present for her mom yet. She knew exactly what her mom wanted, but she wasn't sure how to get her mom and Sara together without getting herself grounded.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: Yes, this took a while to post. ...I don't think I want to try to think up an excuse. Thanks to **scuby** and **Frosty **for their help.

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Catherine leaned against the countertop and tried to ignore the sounds of the two five year olds that had taken over her living room. Listening to them, she was almost grateful that she had been ordered into the kitchen to make cookies.

"You can't put that one there, it's too close to the green light!"

"What's wrong with putting it near the green light?"

"It makes Santa look like the Grinch! And he should go on one of the higher branches."

"If I put him on one of the higher branches, he'll fall and shatter into a million pieces."

"He will not! He's fallen from the top of our other trees before, and he didn't break then!"

"According to you, this is the first year you've had a reasonably sized Christmas tree. If we put him on the top of this one, he will break."

Catherine shook her head, smiling as she listened to her girls arguing over how to decorate the tree. It really was too big, and she couldn't believe she'd let Sara talk her into getting it.

…Well, maybe she could, but she still wasn't happy about having that monstrosity in her living room. And she was definitely **too** happy about being wrapped around Sara Sidle's finger. Just because the way the woman looked at her sometimes made her heart sing didn't mean she had to turn into a non-combative teddy bear around her.

"Why are you complaining about him looking like the Grinch, anyways? I'm pretty sure I saw a Grinch ornament in one of those boxes."

"The Grinch is supposed to look like the Grinch—Santa isn't!"

Catherine looked over at the oven, checking to see if the cookies were done yet while she continued listening to Sara and Lindsey. It was a little weird listening to her daughter arguing about tree ornaments with someone other than her, but somehow, hearing Linds argue with Sara felt inexplicably right.

"Here, let me take it; **I'll** put it on properly."

"Fine."

The timer on the oven buzzed and Catherine reached for a pot holder and pulled open the oven door. Predictably, just as she was pulling out the sheet of cookies, a crash sounded out from the living room, causing her to lose her grip on the pot holder. Her hand slipped into contact with the hot metal and she dropped the tray, heading over to the sink and putting her hand under cold water.

Despite the burn and her annoyance that the cookies had just barely missed falling all over the floor, Catherine smiled as her daughter's comment reached her ears.

"…Maybe we should've gotten a smaller tree."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: I decided to celebrate being back from vacation early by writing a new chapter. Go me.

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Sara pulled a heavy Santa Claus ornament out of one of the many boxes crowding the sofa and brought it over to the tree. She and Lindsey had been decorating it for almost an hour, and there were still unopened boxes all around them. According to Lindsey, Catherine had gotten at least one ornament from every person she had ever met.

_Almost every person._ Lindsey had not-so-subtly shot an expectant glance at Sara when she mentioned where the ornaments were from. Sara was pretty sure that that had been Lindsey ordering her to get Catherine an ornament in teen-speak.

"You can't put that one there, it's too close to the green light!"

Sara looked up from putting the Santa ornament on the tree and tried not to sound too clueless. "What's wrong with putting it near the green light?"

If the youngest Willows' expression was anything to go by, her attempt failed spectacularly. Lindsey definitely didn't think too much of Sara's intelligence at the moment.

"It makes Santa look like the Grinch! And he should go on one of the higher branches."

Not entirely sure how putting Santa near a green light made him look like the Grinch, Sara decided to pay attention to the part of Lindsey's complaining she could actually argue against.

"If I put him on one of the higher branches, he'll fall and shatter into a million pieces."

Lindsey huffed and crossed her arms at Sara's logic. "He will not! He's fallen from the top of our other trees before, and he didn't break then!"

"According to you, this is the first year you've had a reasonably sized Christmas tree. If we put him on the top of this one, he will break." It was entirely possible that Santa was more resilient than he looked, but Sara wasn't going to risk breaking anything of Cath's.

"Why are you complaining about him looking like the Grinch, anyways? I'm pretty sure I saw a Grinch ornament in one of those boxes." If there was a collection of little Ewok ornaments in the ridiculous collection of boxes, there had to be a Grinch one.

"The Grinch is supposed to look like the Grinch—Santa isn't!"

It was probably a good thing that Catherine was so close by. Sara was extremely tempted to start acting like a five year old and whine loudly about how green light didn't turn Santa into the Grinch.

Concentrating solely on keeping her mouth shut, Sara almost missed Lindsey rolling her eyes and grabbing Santa.

"Here, let me take it; **I'll** put it on properly."

Sara put up her hands in surrender. Catherine definitely wouldn't appreciate her and Lindsey getting into a shouting match over a Santa ornament. "Fine."

What happened next would have been funny if Sara had been wearing shoes. When Santa fell off the high branch Lindsey had hooked him on and shattered, a piece of ceramic sliced through the top of Sara's foot.

Lindsey stared at the remains of Santa, glaring at them as if they'd all get up and march back into place. Being Catherine's daughter, it was not entirely unthinkable that they would obey her.

Looking over at Sara's foot, the teenager winced. "…Maybe we should've gotten a smaller tree."

Sara rolled her eyes and tilted her foot so that blood didn't join Santa on the floor. "Maybe. Clean up Santa; I need to wash off my foot before your mom's carpet gets even messier."

Oddly enough, Lindsey didn't complain about her assignment. She just started picking up Santa. While she did that, Sara walked awkwardly into the kitchen, where Catherine was standing by the running sink. The entire room smelled of cookies.

Sara cleared her throat and smiled sheepishly when Catherine spun around. "I think I need a little help bandaging this, Cat." She gestured to her bleeding foot as best she could without getting blood on the cookies. Sara decided not to ask why they were on the floor.

In moments, she and Catherine were wrapping the injured appendage up tightly. Sara sat back in the chair Cath had all but shoved her into and smiled. She wouldn't tell Lindsey, but arguing about the placement of Christmas ornaments had been the most fun she'd had since ice skating in New York.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

* * *

Lindsey dug through the contents of her desk drawer, searching for the camera that Greg had given her. She had told him about her idea a few days ago when her mom had dropped by the lab to get something out of her locker. He had thought it was brilliant and had immediately volunteered Archie's camera to help her in her 'most valiant gift-acquiring quest'. 

Somehow, she had managed to misplace the camera. She wouldn't say it was lost, because she knew it was somewhere in her room. …And Archie was already upset with Greg. If he heard anything about a 'lost' camera, he would go ballistic.

After another minute of digging, Lindsey gave up looking through her desk. There was no way she could have managed to bury a camera that deep in only a few days.

She looked around her room, searching for any sign of it. Finding nothing, she sighed and went to collapse on her bed. There went one lost opportunity… and one ex-lab rat. Archie wasn't going to be happy.

Lindsey threw her pillow over her face and groaned into it. Then she threw it down near her feet and stared at the ceiling. She stretched her arms slightly, trying not to think about what Greg would look like on one of those creepy metal tables.

Thankfully, the connecting of her hand and something that definitely did not belong where her pillow usually was saved both their skins. Lindsey flipped herself over and smiled victoriously when she saw the misplaced camera. She snatched it and was out her bedroom door in seconds.

On her way down the stairs, she took extra care to make her steps light. If her mom or Sara woke up, she would lose a great opportunity.

A part of her still wasn't too sure about doing this. There was no doubt in her mind that she could do without capturing mushy moment between her mom and Sara on film.

Unfortunately, there was also no doubt in her mind that her mother would love this.

Lindsey sighed. It would have seemed more worthwhile to her if she could give the album she was in the process of creating to both of them. Greg had agreed with her about Sara freaking; she was a little paranoid about her feelings. Her mother would be a bit shocked as it was, but at least she wouldn't try to spend less time with Sara or anything stupid like that just because of a few pictures of two friends that were spending a lot of time together.

She would be just as stubborn as Sara would about admitting how much she liked the pictures, though. Lindsey never would have thought that seeing her mother in love and not doing anything about it would bother her so much.

Lindsey crept around the couch and stood so that she was looking down on her mom. It didn't look like they were awake… that was good. With any luck, her fumbling around with Archie's camera wouldn't disturb them.

As soon as the picture showed up on the digital screen Lindsey was looking at, she walked back up the stairs quickly, remembering just in time to grab the lens cap.

The picture, in her critically modest opinion, was perfect.

Sara and her mom had fallen asleep watching some movie. Somehow, they had managed to curl up together in their sleep. Sara's arms were wrapped snugly around her mom, and her mom had turned inward and was resting her head in the crook of Sara's neck. Lindsey felt somewhat proud of herself for managing to hold the camera at an angle that caught the soft smile on her mom's face. The expression was hopelessly sappy, and Lindsey strongly suspected that she'd have to get used to it if she wanted to finish up her mom's present.

Hopefully, she'd have a lot more pictures of her mom and Sara by Christmas Eve. Then she could put all of them in the album that Aunt Nancy had gotten her and wrap it up.

Lindsey couldn't wait to see the expression on her mom's face when she figured out the theme of the pictures.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: It's not a bird. It's not a plane. It's definitely not Superman. It's just an update. No need to look up at the pretty clouds.

* * *

Catherine gritted her teeth and did her best to ignore the crazed shoppers that kept attempting to knock her over. Just because their sanity had abandoned them didn't mean they could run people over whenever the hell they felt like it.

She should've tried to figure this out sooner. Then she could be at home with Lindsey or out with Sara instead of wandering aimlessly around the mall.

As it was, she saw being jailed for mass murder in her near future. The teenage boy manning the sunglasses kiosk—who clearly had no control over the spasms that took over his eyelids whenever Catherine walked by—would be the first to go.

Next year, she'd finish her shopping before the weekend before Christmas. …Or maybe she'd just do all of her shopping online, and avoid the mall entirely. That sounded positive.

Catherine sighed and ran a distracted hand through her hair, temporarily succeeding in ignoring the people bumping into her. Maybe next year she'd just ask Sara what she wanted for Christmas.

Grissom had made several suggestions, but none of them were remotely helpful. Sara already owned all of the textbooks he had recommended. Catherine still felt overly smug when she thought about how she had shot down his suggestions. She knew more about Sara's bookcase than Grissom did.

That meant… a lot. Grissom paid more attention to things like that than Catherine did, but Catherine had been in Sara's apartment so many times that it didn't matter.

Not that the fuzzy feelings that came with that knowledge helped her much at the moment. She was still stuck in a mall, she was still surrounded by a crazed mob, and she **still** had no idea what to get Sara.

Catherine looked around the stores closest to her, glaring at them in frustration. If she didn't find something in five minutes, she was just going to go home, say to hell with being embarrassed, and pray that Sara would appreciate being kissed instead of having to deal with tearing apart decorative paper.

…Her remaining sanity immediately threw itself into finding something before the end of the time limit.

Unfortunately for Catherine, looking around the surrounding area included coming close to making eye contact with the teenager who was in desperate need of muscle control. She was about to flip him off when something behind him caught her eye.

Catherine made her way through the throng of shoppers as quickly as possible, making sure not to get too close to the sunglasses kiosk as she passed it.

Reaching her destination, Catherine felt a mixture of joy and relief rush through her. She reached out and ran her fingers over the metal pipes, smiling at the familiar twists and the chiming that filled her ears.

It looked like Sara would have to deal with tearing apart decorative paper after all.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI

AN: Yay, the holiday season has returned! I guess this means I don't have a good reason to avoid updating this story... darn.

* * *

Really, Sara thought, after spending so much time around the girl, she should know better than to think that Lindsey was capable of being part of a simple shopping trip. Hell, she had spent more than enough time listening to Catherine complain about her daughter's love of what she had taken to calling 'the infernal hellhole known as the mall' to know better.

After dragging Sara through several shops that the CSI had no desire to ever lay eyes on ever, ever again, Lindsey had remembered that they were at the mall for a reason. _Then_ Lindsey had dragged Sara aimlessly through the mall while they argued over whose fault it was that Catherine's favorite Santa Claus ornament was in pieces.

Sara made a mental note to herself to only spend multiple hours alone with Catherine's daughter when the girl was in a relatively good mood. No one in a good—or rational—mood would try to blame her for the height of a Christmas tree that a certain teenager had _asked_ for.

At least now they were getting something done. They had finally found a shop with a decent supply of Christmas ornaments, and Lindsey was in the process of deciding which Santa looked the most like the one that had shattered.

Sara had tried to point out earlier that one of her top choices was missing the green gloves of Shattered Santa, but Lindsey's glare had stopped her.

"What are you getting Mom for Christmas?"

Sara looked up from the shelf of Santas and met Lindsey's eyes awkwardly. She had been hoping that the teenager wouldn't bring that up.

"I'm, uh, not entirely sure."

Lindsey rolled her eyes and huffed, turning her attention back to the competing ornaments in her hands. "Do you remember if Santa's boots had colored laces?"

The Santa with gold laces on his boots was the one that didn't have green gloves, but Cath's recent comment about having two five year olds was still fresh in her mind, so Sara answered honestly. "I have no idea."

"Maybe you would if you had seen it whole for more than a few seconds," Lindsey muttered petulantly. "Okay, I'll get this one then." She held up the Santa _with_ green gloves, and walked up to the cash register.

Sara trailed behind, looking around at all of the holiday-themed figurines someone had painstakingly arranged in ridiculous formations and the festive, seizure-inducing lights strung across the shelves. Besides Lindsey, only Catherine would have been able to get her to step inside this shop.

Greg would probably say that she was thoroughly whipped if he knew about this little adventure.

…Greg would be right.

Sara pulled out her wallet and waited for the bored cashier to tell her how much Shattered Santa's replacement cost.

She looked down at the figurine closest to the cash register and blinked. It was a white tiger with a Santa hat on and its fangs bared. One of its paws was resting on a cub's head. There was a tag wound around the cub's neck, and seeing the cashier struggling with operating the cash register, Sara picked it up and read it.

Then she put it down and stared at the figurine.

On the one hand… it fit. It fit so well that it was almost scary.

On the other… Sara glanced at Lindsey, then back at the figurine. She cleared her throat to attract the cashier's attention and pointed down at the tiger and its cub.

"I think I'll take that too."

Catherine was unlikely to kill her with Lindsey watching. As long as Sara made sure that Cat read the tag while Lindsey was around, she would make it through the holidays.

…Hopefully.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

* * *

Lindsey had never been led to believe that her mother's dates were intelligent people. They had always acted like idiots around her mom, and whenever they had caught sight of _her_, their eyes went wide and they would try to ignore her.

Or treat her like she was still in preschool.

Or go pale and make some excuse about only bringing flowers and dressing up to apologize for not being able to take her mom out that night.

One particularly annoying person had looked at Lindsey glaring at him from the couch and asked, "What is _that_?" The only good thing about her mother's almost-date with _him_ was that she had gotten the chance to see her mom get shout at someone besides her.

So when Greg had accidentally told her that her mom liked Sara, she had been (after getting over the discomfort of _her mother_ seriously liking someone) somewhat relieved. As much as her mom ranted about Sara, she had never once insulted her intelligence.

Now, Lindsey was finally figuring out that her mother didn't have impossibly bad taste, romance just made adults stupid.

Last night, she had accidentally heard her mom talking to Sara on the phone about spending a couple nights with them, so she could celebrate the chaos of Christmas with them properly. Pressing her ear to her mom's door, Lindsey had managed to hear something about Sara not having a choice because of a bet.

_Then_ they had started arguing about where Sara would sleep. From what Lindsey could hear, it sounded like Sara was trying to get out of the bet by saying it would cause her mom too much trouble.

They had actually _discussed_ Sara sleeping on the couch before her mom remembered that they had a guest bedroom. The way her mom talked about the guest bedroom made it sound like she'd rather deal with the idiot who didn't know what a teenager was than think about its existence. As if they both weren't making it way too obvious already that they wanted to share her mom's bed!

…Why they wanted to share a bed was something Lindsey never ever wanted to think about, but unlike _some_ people, she wasn't randomly turning into an idiot, and she did watch romance movies every once in a while.

Lindsey glowered at bed she was lying on. Sara would be showing up in about an hour, and her mother was already more jumpy than she usually was around Christmas. _With the way she's acting, you'd think that it wasn't Sara's blood on the carpet next to the Christmas tree,_ the teenager thought sullenly. She had been ordered to clear all of her stuff out of the guest bedroom before Sara arrived.

Not for the first time, she thought about how much less work she'd have to do if grownups weren't so oblivious. Her mom and Sara stared at each other _all the time_, and they still didn't realize that they liked each other in a more than friendly way.

Lindsey glanced at the clock sitting on the nightstand, and then looked at the soda she was holding. Her mother was way too busy getting the house ready for Sara to deal with one more thing on her to-do list. …And she really didn't fee like moving all of her things back to her room.

Lindsey leaned back against the pillows and tipped the soda can over, spilling Sprite all over the sheets.

"Whoops."


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: Right, so I'm going to try to finish this story. I don't know how that'll go, since I'm not really into CSI anymore, but I thought I should at least give it a shot. The less incomplete messes I have stored on my computer, the better. And for those interested, yes, that means there's a chance that certain other unfinished stories I've started might get resurrected, but I wouldn't count on it.

* * *

Lindsey edged out of the room, trying to avoid looking at her mother. Years of growing up in the Willows' household had taught her many things, the most useful of which was when it was best not to present a target for her mom's temper. So while Catherine glared at her, she scampered through the doorway, leaving the two adults alone.

Quietly, they both examined the damage.

"So…" Sara began uneasily.

"Yeah," Catherine muttered back intelligently, staring numbly down at the bed that Sara was supposed to be sleeping in. The bed that was now very inconveniently covered in soda. She'd told Lindsey a million times not to bring food or liquids in here. It figured that _this_ time when her daughter ignored her, things went wrong.

"I can just sleep on the couch—it's no big deal. I mean, I can't remember the last time I've slept in _my_ bed." Sara shifted her eyes to the doorway and adjusted her grip on her duffel bag awkwardly. "Or I could just go back to my apartment and head here in the—"

"_No_, Sara. We had a bet, and you lost. You stay here and take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, Cat."

"Right, I'm leaving voluntarily and taking the couch so you don't have to sleep on it."

Hadn't they just had this discussion earlier? Yes, yes they definitely had. Except this time, there was no guest room Catherine could suggest as an alternative. There was just her and Sara and one couch and one bed.

There was no way she was going to let Sara sleep on the couch, even if she was used to that. But there was also no way Sara was going to let her take the couch.

This was why getting into arguments with the younger woman was so easy, Catherine remembered bitterly. They were both so incredibly stubborn that the slightest difference in opinion had had the potential to explode into something ugly.

At least they were friendly enough to keep their arguments to a dull roar now.

"Couldn't you two just share a bed?"

Catherine and Sara both twisted their necks around so fast that they almost got whiplash. Lindsey rolled her eyes at them. "I mean, it's not like you're going to be doing anything besides sleeping. What's the problem?"

She ducked back out of the room, but not fast enough to hide her smirk from her mother. Catherine felt like burying her head in the soaking wet sheets and hiding for a few hours. If the holiday cheer wasn't taming her more violent impulses, she might have felt a lot like strangling her loveable teenager.

"She does have a point," Sara said haltingly. Catherine would have scowled at her, but considering how obvious that would make her feelings on sharing a bed with Sara…

"Are you sure?" she asked instead, not quite willing to think about how she wanted her friend to answer.

Sara nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm sure. If nothing else, it's way better than arguing about it, right?"

"Right," Catherine muttered. Yes. Much, much better than arguing.

"And she really is right—it's not like we'll do anything besides sleeping, right?"

…Catherine wanted to start arguing again. There was no chance in hell she was getting any sleep tonight.


End file.
